Scotland, England, and a broken leg
by cutekittenlady
Summary: During one of their disagreements Scotland manages to accidentally break his leg. Now bed ridden, Scotland must put up with his younger brother taking care of him. These next few days were going to be torture. After all its not like England knows anything about him, right? Rated T for excessive cursing.
1. Chapter 1

"I hate this." Scotland huffed.

"Stop complaining." England told him as he set a glass of water onto the table.

The red haired Scotsman sat in bed with pillows between him and the headboard. A blue blanket covered him though one leg in a plaster cast stuck out from underneath.

"I'll complain all I want!" he retorted back. "This is all yer fault anyway!"

"MY fault?! I tried to warn you but you ignored me!"

* * *

_Scotland had come home after working all morning. He had gone into the kitchen, kicked off his shoes, grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass and poured himself a drink as he sat down and propped up his feet ready for a little relaxation._

_Of course as luck would have it England walked in at that very moment._

_And in the English mans mind the middle of the afternoon was NOT the time for drinking. Tea perhaps, but not scotch._

_The result was one that anyone would predict._

_"I dun care what ya say! I'll drink when I wanna drink!"_

_"I do not need you getting piss drunk in the middle of the afternoon while I'm working!" England argued making a grab at the bottle in Scotlands hand._

_Scotland used his height to his advantage and held the bottle above his head out of Englands reach._

_"I dun get piss drunk nearly as easily as ye, ya wee bairn." He said as he walked out of the room with the bottle still above his head as he headed for the stairs. "One er two glasses and yer on the floor babblin like a fool!"_

_"We are not talking about me we are talking about you!" he said angrily as he followed after his brother._

_"If yer just gunna complain about it, then I'll jus be drinkin in my room!" he called back as he began climbing up the stairs._

_"So that you can pass out and sleep the day away? I think not!" he yelled up the stairs._

_"Dun care! I'm doin it anyway!" Scotland said as he poured scotch from the bottle into the glass he still had in his hand._

_"Scotland wait!" England called after him sounding exasperated._

_Scotland smirked, "I can't hear ye!"_

_"You idiotic git! Watch where you are going! You are about to step on-"_

_There was a loud howl was heard as Sctoland accidentally stepped on Englands Scottish fold. The sudden howl caused Scotland to pick up his foot suddenly putting the man off balance and falling backwards down the stairs._

_After rolling over himself and ending up on the floor England leaned over him with the angry cat in his arms and a worried look. "Are you alright?"_

_Scotland hissed as he grabbed his leg, "Agh… Oh, I'm just peaches and cream WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK! CALL THE FUCKING HOSPITAL!"_

* * *

That had been days ago and Scotland had had to get his leg put into a cast,then he had been stuck in the hospital for a few day, and even after he was released he was under doctors orders to stay in bed for the next few days. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that Wales and North Ireland had made plans and the only one open to take care of him during his stay in bed was England. And he HATED it.

England held out his hand to Scotland. "Take this." He commanded.

Scotland looked over to see a vitamin in Englands hand.

"Why?" he asked frowning.

"Because you are in bed and you need to take plenty of vitamins so your leg heals faster." He told him holding the vitamin under his nose.

"Imma grown ass man, I dun need to take that shite." Scotland replied stubbornly.

England frowned. "If you want to get better you will take it. If not willingly then I will make you take it." He warned.

Scotland narrowed his eyes. "Ya wouldn't fuckin dare."

"Try me."

Scotland looked at his little brother than at the vitamin. He gave a resigned groan and put the vitamin in his mouth and drank it down with the glass of water. "There." He said putting the glass down on the bedside table. "I took it. Now ye can go."

England sighed. "For now." He turned and exited closing the door behind him.

"Finally." Scotland sighed as he reached under his pillow and pulled out a copy of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and began reading to bide the time.

In the back of his mind he was a little angry at England for getting him all riled up enough that he wouldn't notice his stupid brothers cat on the stairs.

This is all his fault. I wouldn't be stuck here if it weren't fer him. He thought frustratingly. Sitting still in bed wasn't something Scotland enjoyed doing. He did like sitting down and reading but being stuck in bed all day was very different.

A few hours lady, Scotland had Finished Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and had moved on to Treasure Island when there was a knock on the door. He quickly stashed the book under his pile of pillows. England was the last person he wanted to know about his love for literature. Some of the other nations had built up this manly image of him. America was an especially bad case. The boy seemed to get the idea that Scotland wore nothing but kilts and spent his days throwing giant wooden poles around or wrestling bears.

England seemed to assume that Scotland was this big oaf who cared more about drinking and fighting than anything else and the Scotsman worried that if the Englishman ever learned of his love of literature then he would mock him and assume that Scotland was trying to be more like him.

Despite the rather large age gap between the two, the brothers were equally matched when they privately competed and had formed something of a sibling rivalry. So the idea of his brother having anything to use against him grated his nerves.

After stashing the books Scotland called, "Come on in."

England opened the door with a tea tray under one arm. "I brought you some tea."

He frowned. "Ya couldn't bring me anythin else? Like porridge or soup?"

"Do not be so ungrateful. Tea is very relaxing. And you need to relax if you are going to get any rest." England set the tea tray onto the bedside table and offered a steaming cup to Scotland who took it with a resigned sigh.

"So what have you been doing up here all day?" England asked.

"Nothin."

"Come now you must be doing something to keep yourself busy." He poured himself a cup.

He stubbornly remained silent.

England sighed as he sipped his own tea. "Could you at least cooperate with me a little here?"

"Why should I?" he snapped stubbornly. "Wouldn't 'ave broken my leg if you had just let me drink."

"I have already apologized plenty! And as I said before, I did try to warn you. It is not my fault if you ignored me."

"Well maybe if you didn't harp on me about every little thing."

"I do not harp on about anything! Now quiet down and drink your tea!"

Scotland thought about dumping the tea over Englands head, but decided that would be too troublesome with his bum leg so instead he silently drank it as quickly as possible. "There I'm done. Now you can go."

"Fine." He said standing. "I see how you are going to be. Guess I will just leave this here then." He placed a book on the bedside table.

"What's that?" he asked pointing at it.

"It is a copy of Hamlet."

"I can see that, but why did you bring it here?"

"So you can read it. Or what, are English playwrights not good enough for you all of a sudden?"

Scotland picked up the book a little surprised.

"I know you think your little collection is a secret, but if you are going to keep something a secret do not hide it under your sheets, especially when I am the one washing them."

"You… knew?"

"Of course I did!" he sighed exasperated before standing up. "I have work to do so don't you dare get out of bed until I say you're better! I will leave the tea here for you, and don't worry I took the liberty of adding that touch of cinnamon like you like it so I won't hear any complaining." He then turned and left leaving Scotland alone.

Scotland stared after him for a bit, before reaching over for the copy of Hamlet with a huff. He cracked open the book and began reading while muttering under his breath with a small smile on his lips, "Weasly little bairn…"


	2. Chapter 2

"Get offa meh ya wee shite." Scotland growled as he glared down at the Scottish fold lying on his lap and cleaning itself.

"Oh come now Scotland now you are just becoming petty." Arthur scolded as he organized the books on the shelf in his brothers room

"SHUT. UP." He spat at Arthur grumpily. "And leave mah fuckin bookshelves alone ya twat!"

"Oh will you just stop, you are only embarrassing yourself." Arthur sighed dramatically thoroughly enjoying being the adult in this situation. Though he could only get away with this due to Scotlands injuries.

"Shut yer yap! I dun need ya messin with mah orginization!"

England chuckled. "Organization? Half of the books were in a pile in the corner!"

"Aye! I have nay read those yet!"

"Oh pipe down! Every time you get too upset your accent gets worse and worse and I can not understand you!"

"Well yer limey ass accent makes you sound like a prissy ass princess!"

"Ha! Most people say I sound like a rockstar."

"America dun count moron!"

England shrugged in an exaggerated and condescending way before turning back to the bookshelf and getting back to organizing.

"Why're ya even still here?! Dun ya still have work ya need tae do?! Get lost and get outta my hair!" Scotland said angrily.

"I CAN'T leave you alone now." England sighed the condescending voice gone. "Not after that little stunt you pulled last night." England said pointing at Scotlands now bandaged right arm.

Scotland tsked to the side avoiding his brothers eye contact.

"Exactly what were you thinking?"

* * *

_The night before Scotland had lain in bed awake after reading for the past few hours. He liked to read sure, but even that had a limit to exactly how much boredom it could put off. So after finishing several books he had been lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, wide awake._

_He peered over at his side and saw the crutch that had been placed there by England. He had been ordered by him to only get up to use the restroom and to use the crutch when that happened. At the moment he didn't have to go but… He did find his tongue desiring a glass of whiskey. It'd probably make him feel better too._

_Besides screw England, what the hell did he know._

_So he reached over and grabbed the crutch and used it to help himself up and out the door heading towards the stairs._

_He did his best to sneak as quietly as he possibly could past Englands room. Not because he was afraid to get caught mind you, he just didn't want to get nagged at._

_So Scotland began to tentively descend down the stairs, but just when it seemed like all was going well-_

_A familiar howl filled the air as Scotland once again stepped on Englands Scottish fold sending the Scotsman down the stairs, slamming his arm on the ground._

_The sound of a door bursting open was followed by the pounding of footsteps coming closer to the stairs until England appeared at the top with a cricket bat in his hand and a worried expression on his face. "Who's there?!" He looked down the stairs and saw Scotland flat on his back. He blinked in surprise before rushing down the stairs. "Scotland what the hell happened?! Is your leg alright?"_

_He did his best to blink the pain filled tears away. "Yah. The legs fine. My arm on the other hand…"_

_England stared looked between him and the stairs before asking, "Are you some kind of masochist?"_

_"Shut the fuck up and call an ambulance."_

* * *

"Well you certainly can't blame me this time." England sighed.

"Yeah." Scotland agreed.

England blinked in surprise not expecting him to say that. "Wait… you mean…"

"IT'S THE FUCKIN CATS FAULT!" Scotland declared as he jabbed a finger at the cat in his lap.

England groaned. "Now really Scotland you are acting like a child again."

"I woulda been just fine if this little rat hadn't been sleeping on the steps!"

"Scotland stop blaming Sherlock for your own mistakes!" England scolded. "Seriously and you were the first one to agree with keeping him too."

"Yer the one who brought him home!"

"Well what else was I supposed to do? Abandon the poor thing in the rain?!" He huffed before stomping over and picking Sherlock up off of Scotlands lap. "There is a limit to how far one can let their pride get to them."

"Oh like yer one tae talk." Scotland scoffed.

England sat down in the chair next to Scotlands bed as he set the cat down on his lap, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Ya take credit fer everthin!"

"I don't follow."

"Name a famous English author."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just do it."

"Hmph fine if it'll really keep you quiet. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Scottish."

"What?"

"Doyle was Scottish."

"No he wasn't."

"Yes he was! This is what I'm talking about!"

He glared at Scotland before saying, "Kenneth Graham."

"Scottish."

"Robert Louis Stevenson."

"Scottish."

England growled in irritation.

Scotland of course was thoroughly enjoying this.

"Lets switch topics. Name an English scientist."

He glared at Scotland and said, "Alexander Anderson."

"Scottish."

"John Logie Baird."

"Scottish."

"Grr, ALEXANDER GRAHM BELL!"

"SCOT-TISH!"

England stood up and suddenly causing Sherlock to jump off of his lap before he stormed out yelling, "Fuck you git."

Sherlock jumped back up onto the Scotsman lap who simply smirked and scratched behind the cats ears. "Heh, I win this round."

* * *

((OOC: If you're wondering who any of these people are look them up. Otherwise you obviously don't care enough.

And yes England did name his cat after Sherlock holmes.))


End file.
